The Animals of Farthing Wood

by Colin Dann

  ‘You’re getting too soft, Toad,’ said Adder, who had hitherto been a silent witness of the events. ‘That creature would have been your death if it had had its way. To spare such a life is senseless. It merely gives the fish a second chance to try the same thing.’

  ‘I know there’s no streak of mercy running through your twists and coils,’ said Toad coldly, ‘but fortunately some of us have a gentler nature. Having just stared Death in the face myself, and been rescued, how could I ignore the plight of another creature in the same straits?’

  ‘Even when it tried to kill you? Oh, that’s very sensible,’ Adder commented sarcastically.

  ‘Now, Adder!’ Badger remonstrated. ‘An act of compassion is dictated by the heart, not the head.’

  ‘Pooh!’ said Adder. ‘Don’t talk such airy-fairy nonsense, Badger. When it’s a question of survival you, like me, take the only course open to you. If another’s death means my life continues, then so be it.’

  ‘The difference being,’ Toad remarked, ‘that my life was already safe.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on him, Toad,’ Badger whispered. ‘Remember the Hunt. He saved us all you know.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten, believe me,’ said Toad quickly. ‘Only I think old Adder is trying to. There’s nothing he likes less than being regarded as a hero, and he’s doing his best to change our minds. His action was a blow struck for all of us, not just himself as he would have us think. It revealed a layer of sympathy in him, and he’s trying hard to cover it up again.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ acknowledged Badger. ‘But at least we know now we can depend on him in a tight corner. I always wondered about it before.’

  Adder slithered away in a huff, as Whistler rejoined the animals.

  ‘To be fair to your friend Adder,’ he said, ‘I must say I agree with his view. Although I admire your request, Toad, it seemed an unusual one to me. In addition, that fat old fish looked a tasty morsel. I’ve been trying for years to catch him, the wily creature. Now I don’t suppose I ever shall again.’

  ‘For that I’m sorry,’ said Toad contritely. ‘It wasn’t the right way to reward you for rescuing me.’

  ‘You know,’ said Fox, ‘I think the dangers and hardships we’ve suffered on our journey have changed us. Back home in Farthing Wood, none of us, including Toad, would have allowed that fish to escape. But I suppose fighting for our continued safety every day was bound to bring about a change in our behaviour.’

  ‘Live and let live?’ suggested Whistler.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘I must say,’ said the heron thoughtfully, ‘the more I talk to you fellows, the more I begin to wish I were travelling with you. You’ve got a purpose in life. You struggle on, but there’s a reward at the end of it. Of course, I’m quite safe here. But nothing ever happens. I’m inclined to wonder if there mightn’t be a charming young female heron living in White Deer Park who would love to meet me.’

  The animals laughed.

  ‘You’re perfectly welcome to join us,’ said Fox. ‘We’ve already acquired one new member of the party’ – he looked tenderly towards Vixen – ‘and one more would be no strain on our resources.’

  ‘I could be of some use to you, perhaps, too,’ Whistler said excitedly. ‘Oh, I should love to come.’

  ‘Then it’s settled,’ said Fox. ‘Tonight we’ll have a celebration and you can meet everyone personally.’

  ‘What a wonderful idea,’ said Whistler. ‘By the way . . . um . . . will you be needing any fish?’

  25

  The celebration

  As dusk fell that day the animals began to gather. Close to the pond Fox found a comfortable area of soft grass, screened by reed tussocks. There the animals lay down where they wished and Badger, who was to be Master of Ceremonies, counted his friends as they took their places.

  Whistler had been looking forward to the event all day, and had been striding up and down the pond side in an effort to disguise his impatience for things to begin.

  Mole, whose unnoticed attempt to eat a record number of worms had caused him to feel quite sick, had found it necessary to drink vast quantities of water during the day, and he now felt as bloated as a balloon. With every hesitant step he could hear the pond-water slurping inside his stomach, and he decided to fast rigidly for the next twenty-four hours.

  As for Toad, after his fright in the early morning he had not ventured to swim again, but had contented himself with sitting in the mud in a cool spot, enjoying the rain, and lazily flicking up mayflies and gnats that strayed too close to him.

  But the rain had stopped in time for the celebration, and it was now a warm, still evening with a sky whose stars were obscured by scudding clouds.

  ‘Has anybody seen Tawny Owl?’ asked Badger. ‘And where’s Adder? I hope he’s not going to be silly and stay away.’

  ‘Tawny Owl’s flying over the pond,’ piped up one of the little hedgehogs. ‘He looks like a great big bat.’

  There was a chorus of giggles from the other youngsters, which was checked instantly by Owl’s arrival, and a stern look from Badger.

  ‘I would never have believed it!’ Tawny Owl exclaimed, with an almost indignant look. ‘It’s just too ridiculous for words!’

  ‘What is it, Owl?’ asked Badger. ‘Do find a perch, old fellow, and settle down.’ The latter remark was addressed to Whistler, who had hurried up to hear the news.

  ‘I don’t perch very much,’ he replied. ‘I’m more a statuesque sort of bird. I like my feet on terra firma.’

  ‘Just as you like, of course,’ Badger said politely, ‘but don’t walk off again, will you? Now then, Owl . . . ?’

  ‘It’s Adder,’ Tawny Owl explained irritably. ‘He’s in the pond, swimming up and down and causing as much commotion as a miniature Loch Ness monster.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ demanded Badger.

  ‘You may well ask. Adder doesn’t take to water too readily. It’s my guess he’s after that fish.’

  ‘Oh, surely not!’ cried Fox. ‘Adder’s got more sense. He can’t see anything.’

  ‘But this is serious,’ Whistler said slowly. ‘If Tawny Owl’s right, he’s more likely to end up the hunted than the hunter. That old carp could soon bolt down a long, thin morsel like Adder.’

  Badger and Fox glanced at each other.

  ‘How can we get him out?’ Fox wanted to know.

  ‘Nothing could get him out while he’s in that sort of mood,’ said Tawny Owl.

  ‘Yes, yes, there is a way,’ Mole squeaked excitedly. ‘Listen, please listen, everybody. I know, I know!’

  Fox smiled at him in a patronizing way, and Tawny Owl did not look pleased with Mole’s dissenting opinion.

  ‘All right, Mole,’ said the kindly Badger, ‘let’s hear you.’

  ‘All the mice and all the voles must sing – as loud as they can,’ Mole announced, ‘and I . . . I’ll join them, and perhaps Toad could join in, if he feels able.’

  ‘And will that fetch him out?’ Badger asked gently.

  ‘Of course not!’ Tawny Owl interrupted contemptuously. ‘I know what idea Mole’s got in his head, but it won’t work. Adder wouldn’t be able to hear.’

  ‘Well, what is the idea?’ enquired Fox.

  Mole looked round at the mice and voles shyly, and then at Fox. ‘It’s a little difficult to say now, Fox,’ he said awkwardly.

  Tawny Owl was not so shy. ‘No good beating around the bush,’ he said. ‘We all know Adder’s very fond of mice in his diet. Can’t resist them. Their squeaky little noises in the dark act like a magnet to him.’

  The voles and mice in one mass began to jump around in alarm, making nervous twittering noises.

  ‘No, no!’ they cried. ‘We won’t! We won’t sing!’

  Mole looked at Tawny Owl with an expression that plainly said: ‘Now look what you’ve done!’

  ‘It’s all right, calm down,’ said the owl. ‘You don’t have to worry. If we all sang at the tops of
our voices he wouldn’t hear.’

  ‘Then we have to leave him?’ asked Fox.

  Whistler began to flutter his damaged wing a little, producing a very slight whistle. ‘Of course, there is one answer to it,’ he said meditatively. ‘I could always do a spot of fishing.’

  Fox looked for a moment as if he might agree to the suggestion. Then his eyes looked away. ‘No, I couldn’t allow it,’ he said. ‘Adder would never forgive us for humiliating him – and in front of everyone, too.’ He looked at the heron again. ‘But it was a good idea,’ he admitted.

  ‘We shall just have to do without him,’ said Badger resignedly. ‘Will everyone take their places again, please?’ He waited patiently while his friends, including the placated members of the mouse family, rearranged themselves comfortably.

  ‘This is a double celebration tonight,’ Badger began. ‘We’re celebrating the safe return of our dear friend here – Fox; and we’re also celebrating the fact that we have made two new friends – our very charming Vixen and, more recently, the amusing Whistler.’

  Here the droll heron bowed with a flourish, causing his damaged wing to make a long, solemn note, at which the small animals giggled loudly.

  Badger went on: ‘This will probably be our last opportunity for a proper break before we reach White Deer Park, so we must make sure we all enjoy ourselves tonight.’

  He looked at Fox, who appeared eager to say something, and nodded.

  ‘Thank you, Badger,’ said his friend. ‘I just wanted to say, everyone, before we show our neighbours the fish and the ducks how to sing, how lucky I consider myself to have such good friends. After wondering for quite a time if I should ever see you all again, now that we’re so happily reunited, I value your company more than ever.’

  There were cheers at this juncture, and many of the animals called, ‘Good old Fox!’

  Fox continued, ‘We’ve been through such a lot together already that there’s no doubt in my mind we shall eventually win through. After all, if we can survive the Hunt, I am sure we shall prove the match of whatever dangers lie in our path ahead.’

  The animals shouted excitedly at Fox’s fighting talk. Some of them felt they were as good as in White Deer Park already.

  ‘Just one last thing,’ said Fox, ‘and then, I promise you, we’ll sing all night if you want to. When I was on my own, I met an old horse, an ex-hunter, and he gave me some good advice. He told me that this open country hereabouts, and the neighbouring enclosed fields, is all part of a hunting area, and that I should get out of it as soon as I could.

  ‘And so, my friends, that is what we shall do. Now we’re all together again, and thoroughly rested, we should be ready to push on tomorrow night, at our swiftest pace, and to stop only when it’s vital. We shall continue in this way every night, sheltering by day, until we’ve put this dangerous stretch of country behind us for good. It’ll be hard going – there’s no point in denying it – but I promise you this: if we all make the utmost effort, and help each other, we’ll see it through, I’m sure of it. And then what stories we’ll have to tell the creatures of White Deer Park!’

  Fox smiled as he saw the resolute expressions on the faces of his friends. From the smallest to the largest, they all looked as if they had decided that, having come so far, nothing could stop them now.

  ‘Well, Badger,’ he finished, ‘I’ll leave it to you now to put us in a more light-hearted frame of mind.’

  ‘Thank you, my dear friend,’ Badger returned. ‘Well now, who’s going to start the singing?’

  ‘I am,’ said a low, drawling voice from behind. And there was Adder, his tongue flickering busily as he slid through the grass, his scales gleaming with wetness. ‘I feel in a musical sort of mood,’ he hissed, making no mention of his recent aquatic activities. ‘Tiddle-tum, tiddle-tum, let me see, how does the tune go? Ah yes . . .’ And in a rather monotonous, unmelodic lisp he sang a song about the first snake who had ever lived in the world, and who had had six legs, each one of which had broken off when it had told a lie, until in the end it had been obliged to slither around on its stomach.

  The animals all applauded politely, but Adder was no singer, and Tawny Owl was heard to remark, ‘Same old thing; he doesn’t know any others.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure we all enjoyed that,’ said Badger. ‘Who would like to follow?’

  ‘I’ll sing you one,’ said Kestrel, flying up to a prominent branch, where everyone could see him. ‘This, of course, is a song about birds,’ he announced, ‘and in it I shall imitate a lot of birds’ cries, so I want you all to listen very carefully and see how many you can recognize.’

  He began to sing, but there were so many different bird calls in the song that there seemed to be more of those than the words, and they all came so quickly one after another that the animals found it confusing and forgot half of the ones they had already identified. However, they all laughed very much when Kestrel gave a beautiful impression of Tawny Owl’s flute-like hoots, so that the rather pompous Owl thought they were laughing at him, and looked offended.

  But he soon cheered up when Kestrel finished his recitation with a few whistles that sounded exactly like their new friend the heron.

  ‘How many did you know?’ Kestrel asked afterwards, and it was discovered that Vixen had the best ear for bird calls. She had remembered nearly all of them, and Fox was proud of her.

  ‘That was marvellous, Kestrel,’ Badger complimented the hawk. ‘But now, let’s have one with a chorus where we can all join in. Anyone got any suggestions?’

  ‘I know one,’ said Toad. ‘It’s the one we toads sing every spring when we gather in the ponds. The frogs have a slightly different version. It’s called “The Song of the Tadpole”.’

  However, nobody seemed to be acquainted with the words apart from Toad, although Fox said he had heard the toads and frogs croaking away at it in Farthing Pond many times.

  ‘There must be something we all know,’ said Badger.

  ‘What about that song the rooks taught us?’ Mole suggested timidly. ‘You know, the “Freedom Song”.’

  ‘Of course!’ cried Badger. ‘The very thing. Well done, Mole, old chap!’ He beamed at the delighted Mole, and asked everyone to sing up.

  ‘We all know this one,’ he said. ‘Ready! One . . . two . . . three . . .’ And in a dozen different pitches that nevertheless blended beautifully, from the squeaks of the mice to Fox’s bark and Tawny Owl’s hoot, the animals happily chanted the verses the rooks had taught them underneath the elms of the copse.

  From then onwards the feeling of comradeship glowed in every member of the party. Animal after animal volunteered to give a song. Some were solo songs, some had choruses, and the night air vibrated with their lively voices.

  Even Whistler, who confessed he did not know any songs, agreed to give a recitation, which he accompanied with many varied musical sounds from his famous wing.

  At length the water-fowl, unable to sleep, gathered from their damp nests and resting-places and swelled the number at the celebration, quacking or chirping good-humouredly with the others.

  It was left to Badger to give the final performance of the evening. Before announcing his choice of song, he smiled in a paternal way at the company of happy birds and beasts before him, the younger ones amongst them already lulled to sleep; and the companionship and mutual trust that was visible on the faces of the motley collection of creatures moved him so much that he had to blink hard several times before he spoke.

  ‘Well, friends,’ he said finally, ‘we’ve had a wonderful time, and now at last it’s my turn to entertain you. I knocked a little song together this morning, while we were eating, and now is the moment to give it an airing.’

  He cleared his throat very deliberately, and in a voice that was rather gruff and off-key, sang to them a song which was about their own travels. Not one incident was left out: the fire, the storm, the farmer’s dog, the river, the chase – everything was included. And, very cleverly, Badg
er managed to give at least a couple of lines to everyone in the party, bringing in Vixen and Whistler at the end.

  The song proved to be so popular that everyone wanted Badger to sing it all over again. But he declined, saying it was getting late.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, though,’ he promised, ‘as we continue our travels, I’ll add a few more verses as we go along, and when we finally reach our destination I’ll sing the whole thing to you.’

  The other animals all declared that it was a bargain, and Mole remarked that it made him all the more eager to get to White Deer Park. So, in the best of spirits, the celebration broke up, and everyone retired, full of confidence for the next stage of their journey.

  26

  The motorway

  The animals left the security of the quarry late the following evening. Fox once again took his place in the van of their formation, carrying Toad. On one side of him he had Vixen, and on the other Hare with his mate and offspring.

  Badger, carrying Mole, and Weasel guarded the rear, and Adder slithered along with them.

  In the middle mass the rabbits and hedgehogs were at the front, voles, fieldmice and squirrels behind.

  In the air there were now three members of the party, Tawny Owl, flying in advance of the day-birds, Kestrel and Whistler. The animals found that the regular, musical wing-beat of the heron above them was a reassuring sound of the party’s compactness. But Tawny Owl secretly disliked this noise, past master as he was himself of stealth and silence.

  When dawn first suggested itself it was the animals’ task to find a safe resting-place as soon as they were able. Here they hid up and slept during the day. At dusk they would forage and drink, then, when it was quite dark, continue their journey.

  They proceeded in this fashion throughout the month of June, and the beginning of July found them only one day’s travelling short of the end of the downland where, Toad told them, they would have to cross a very wide, new road that was still under construction. Once across this obstacle, their troubles would be very nearly over, for the only remaining hazard they would have to encounter was a town, and this they must pass through in order to reach the Park.